


contemporaneous

by Anonymous



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguity, F/M, M/M, jihoon cooks pasta and plays the guitar, references to an Unwritten fic, seokmin/unidentified female character at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: seokmin fiddles, jihoon observesdistant, close, closer





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chikaranari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chikaranari/gifts).



> is it appropriate to ask you to lower your standards?

act I: complementary

 

“Can we two have anything to talk about?”

  
“We have a great deal to talk about.”

  
“Shouldn’t have thought so.”

  
“No, you have never properly understood me.”

  
“Jihoon,” Seokmin mused, breaking character, “you would make a good actor. Why don’t you?”

Jihoon simply smiled, looking up from the script before him. The two were seated in his living room, papers and various other theatre-related objects strewn across the room as per usual, a system only Jihoon himself truly understood. Seokmin sometimes doubted Jihoon’s actual control over the mess, but Jihoon never wasted time looking around when he needed something, so there was clearly _something_ systematic about the chaos.

“I design the stage, sound, keep you fuckers in line and direct you backstage every time Soonyoung inevitably loses focus. Isn’t that enough?” he asked and Seokmin laughed, loud and melodious. The two knew each other well, had been friends for a long time.

“Maybe I just want to see you in stage makeup,” Seokmin joked, and Jihoon could almost taste the _see you on stage_ in there, but he said nothing. They had found delicate equilibrium between affection and distance that kept them dear and devoted throughout the years.

“I’m content with herding you around like cattle during shows,” Jihoon responded with a subtle finality. He had long since left the stage and had no current plans to stand on it again. Seokmin twisted the ring on his ring finger, lips pulled down ever so slightly. To others he would probably seem much sadder than he really was, but Jihoon knew Seokmin as more than ever-smiling. Seokmin often had thoughts unsaid that bothered him, but he wasn’t distressed, this much Jihoon could tell.

“Not yet, time is nearly up. If only he doesn’t- ah, there he is. Come in, there is no one here,” Jihoon started anew, eyes back to trailing along the script. Seokmin had never been good at practicing on his own, but like all the others in the ensemble, he also refused to show up unprepared to any practice.

“I found a note from you at home. what does it mean?” Seokmin responded, sounding every part as dubious and unsure as he should. Nils Krogstad was a special role to play; a kind man at heart, but a man who was wronged by society and played games he did not like. Non-justifiable actions, definitely, but maybe it was for the best, in the end.

“It is absolutely necessary that I should have a talk with you,” Jihoon said, letting urgency bleed into his voice, that soul-wrenching, emotional thirst for something. He considered himself decent at emulating desire more passionate than what he himself experienced. He preferred soft, languid yearning over wild hunger.

“Really? And is it absolutely necessary that it should be here?” Seokmin asked, tapping his ring as he read.

 

act II: curious

 

“Wonwoo has this magical ability to make a character that’s useless by itself mean something,” Seokmin commented from the behind the theatre curtain. Jihoon sat beside him, watched Wonwoo recite his lines. He fit the character perfectly, in Jihoon’s opinion. A quick glance over at Minghao, who was sitting behind the curtain on the opposite side of them, cross-legged and starry eyed, told him Wonwoo was more fitting for Dr. Rank than Minghao ever had been.

“It’s easy to bring light to a character who’s heart is in the same place as yours,” Jihoon responded and Seokmin raised an eyebrow. He was silent, simply waiting for Jihoon to elaborate and knowing it might take a little while. Jihoon liked thinking things all the way through before telling. “They both love Nora. They’re both a side character in the life of the little doll with the big husband, who’s desperate to find herself and the freedom she deserves.”

Seokmin, once again, was silent, eyes flitting between Jihoon, Wonwoo and Minghao. There was no doubt truth in what Jihoon was saying. Wonwoo had always had a special sort of interest in the lost little lambs, but whatever was between him and Minghao was something new. Minghao really couldn’t have played Dr. Rank. Seokmin twisted his ring again, brows furrowed and Jihoon wondered whether or not to comment on how often he had done so lately.

“Do you feel like Krogstad?” he asked instead, observing how Seokmin licked his lips and thought carefully. Jihoon didn’t fully intend the question to be seriously answered, but he was never opposed to hearing Seokmin’s thoughts.

“Don’t we all, to a certain degree? He’s an antagonist, but not a villain. A plagued, desperate man, willing to forego his morals for his family and ultimately suffering great negativity for it,” Seokmin said, as if that actually reflected anything about him. Jihoon would’ve preferred a joking response over a character analysis in a nutshell, at least his jokes held personality.

“Do you feel like an antagonistic antihero, willing to blackmail a desperate woman but at the same time be the only one who truly understands her?” Jihoon pushed and Seokmin twisted his ring around his finger.

“I think I could if the situation arose,” he responded and pulled on the ring before letting both his hands drop to his sides. Jihoon wasn’t entirely happy with the ambiguity, but he didn’t want to push Seokmin further either.

“Let’s hope your Christine is merciful, then,” he said instead and refocused on Wonwoo, who walked off stage and high-fived Minghao on the way. The conversation died out.

 

act III: concerted

 

“I do love her,” Seokmin said, shattering the delicate silence in the apartment. Jihoon threw him a look over his shoulder, then turned back to the sizzling chicken he was moving around in the pan before him. Chili, garlic, chicken, spices, he mentally went through the recipe he’d been taught by his mother for a quick meal.

“I don’t doubt that at all,” Jihoon responded. Seokmin was fiddling and Jihoon wondered if he’d appreciate being comforted. Jihoon wasn’t as finely tuned to Seokmin’s emotional needs as he had been when they were younger, but he knew Seokmin held nothing against him for it.

“Who decided it should be weird to be friends with your exes?” Seokmin asked, but waited for no answer, “I still love her. Just not the way we used to love each other.”  
Jihoon had no reply, choosing instead to finish the sauce he was making with a tin of tomatoes and start searching through the cabinets for pasta. There was something special about the people you’d been romantically interested in, something that tinged the platonic love with new flavours and it was hard going back from it. You could still taste the exotic essence of morning kisses and butterflies in the back of your throat when seeing them, long after any breakup.

“Do you regret it?” Jihoon asked rather than responding to the probably rhetoric question, turning to regard Seokmin fully after filling a pot with water and leaving it to heat up. Seokmin rubbed at his ring finger, circling it as if to hide the vacancy.

“No, not really,” Seokmin said, but he didn’t look very convinced. His gaze flitted from Jihoon’s face to the floor and back again. Jihoon blinked back before letting the sound of boiling water pull his eyes from Seokmin and back to the food on the stove. Seokmin stayed facing him, still rubbing at the spot he used to wear a ring.

“Do you miss her?” Jihoon questioned instead, this time remaining by the oven, concentrated on the food. He eye-measured how much pasta they would eat, knowing full well no one ever makes the perfect amount anyways. Seokmin took a deep breath behind him.

“I miss her so much. Staying wouldn’t be right, but I miss her,” Seokmin said and Jihoon could feel his voice thickening with emotion. He never tried covering it up when it was just the two of them, they were beyond comfortable with each other. “I miss singing with her.”

Jihoon couldn’t help the smile on his face, nor could he help the warmth spreading from his chest. Seokmin singing. It had been a while since Jihoon had heard it; when Seokmin chose acting over music and Jihoon put down his guitar they had stopped their regular music sessions. Jihoon hadn’t thought about it much lately, but now that he had been reminded he could remember almost every single get-together; music and warmth and happiness and after-school stress relief and a break from the rest of the world, a little oasis of guiltless bliss in a desert of responsibility.

“I haven’t heard you sing in a while,” Jihoon muses, a deep sense of relaxation expanding from his very core and out to his fingertips at the mere mental image of their youth. He can hear Seokmin’s heavy heart in every sigh he lets out, but Jihoon has no doubt he can help ease his worries. Warmth seeks out the cold after all.

“I used to dream about becoming a singer, you know,” Seokmin says, sad and distant. He doesn’t seem to notice Jihoon setting the table and smiling at him, deep in thought. Many thought Jihoon was the brooder out of the two, but Jihoon knew who could really lose themselves in murky feelings.

“Yet here you are,” Jihoon responded, eyes glinting when he placed the pan of sauce on the table, “acting and enjoying it.”

Seokmin looked at him, expression open and almost tender, and Jihoon knew Seokmin wouldn’t have it any other way, despite all he’d left behind to get to where he was.

 

epilogue: coexistent

 

His fingers were unaccustomed to the guitar strings, and it was just slightly out of tune, but Jihoon felt like he knew the instrument well nonetheless. It was cold outside and warm inside and Seokmin was humming along to the nonsensical twiddling of Jihoon’s fingerpicking.

“Do you take requests?” Seokmin asked, grinning at Jihoon in that brilliant way only he could, sunshine and gemstones and summer days. Jihoon leaned against him, resting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder and fake pondering for a moment.

“Sure, what do you want to hear?” he responded, twisting his neck awkwardly to look at Seokmin’s face, the smile on his face and the playful glimmer in his eye.

“Wonderwall,” Seokmin said, eyebrows slowly ascending in expectation. Jihoon bursts out laughing just as he had predicted, but starts playing it anyways. Wonderwall was a song no one really forgot after learning. Seokmin started singing along as if to support Jihoon, make the embarrassment mutual, and Jihoon doubts there exists anyone quite as beautiful as Seokmin. It’s like his very spirit shines through in his voice, mesmerizing and steady.

Jihoon joins in as well, because he knows the lyrics as well as he knows the tabs, and soon the two are belting out the lyrics to the Oasis’ classic. This was how Jihoon wanted to live his life, he thought. It wasn’t a sudden realization, didn’t catch him off guard, but it was the first time he’d really spelled it out to himself. Really, the silver band on Seokmin’s pinky finger said more than enough, but Seokmin really didn’t seem to mind it when Jihoon leaned over and told him of his assessment anyways, cheeks flushing and voice cracking with glee.

 

end

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT KNOW WHAT THSI IS LIKE HALF THE FIC IS JSUT JIHOON MAKIGN PASTA  
> um first of all i'd like to very formally apologise? this is rushed and not very high quality at all and feels more like a shitty fanfiction to my own fanfiction than anything else  
> this is not what i intended to write nor is it what i wanted to write (as all whom have talked to me throughout the writing process know), but i realised suddenly that there was simply no way i'd be able to finish what i wanted in time. or overdue, really.  
> therefore, ao3 user chikaranari, i'd like to promise that i will finish the original idea which is much more developed (i'm sure you can guess the some of the cast and the whole plot from this fic alone) and gift it to you as soon as possible  
> this is also probably really vague because its 2:30 am and i dont know how much im actually revealing in the fic. hm.


End file.
